Compromised Defiance
by RobertDowneyJrLove
Summary: In which Natasha defies a direct order from Fury not to compromise Steve, after a discussion with him and Sam about deciding for yourself what is right or wrong and standing on your own. Racy kissing and arguing abound!


It was all going good.

Sort of.

At least, he remembers it being good. Very good, actually. Okay, so that might be overstating it just a bit but still, it hadn't quite gone to hell in a handbasket, yet. And, even if it had, that handbasket was wrapped in cellophane and tied off with a neat little bow. Of course, this was before the Winter Soldier debacle that ended with Bucky saving his life, most of SHIELD wiped off the map, and Sam Wilson becoming his unofficial therapist in the PTSD nightmare that was his life.

"Okay." he drops the file - fourth one, all about Hydra's political activity, how far into each party the tentacles of corruption extended. "If I look at another file, I'm going to Hulk smash it."

Sam Wilson hums his agreement from the couch, file splayed across his chest, spilled papers resting against his ribs. On the floor, tumbler of whiskey in hand, Natasha Romanoff acknowledges him through half-lidded eyes. His living room has turned into Hydra-central, with files stacked against walls, flash drives plugged into every available USB outlet, and passwords to override SHIELD security measures scribbled on pieces of paper. They're looking for the last remaining threads, the outliers in Hydra's circle.

"Last sighting?" Steve swallows hard, forcing the last of his beer down.

"England." Natasha finishes her whiskey, lips pulling into a grimace at the burn. "Used his metal arm to wipe out SHIELD's contacts."

"Jane?"

"Banner was there." she reaches across a stack of files balancing precariously on the edge of his coffee table, plucking the bottle of whiskey from it's perch on Sam's laptop. "He found her in no time. Stayed with her until the threat was gone. They're on a flight back to New York, right now."

"The helicarrier?" Sam Wilson tilts his head at an awkward angle to get a good look at her.

Natasha nods, reaching for the six pack of beer. "Banner won't even look at a plane. And, last I checked Stark is with Miss Potts, so he wasn't an option for Jane."

"Talked to him last week," Steve's mouth thins into a grim line; memories of his less than cheerful conversation with the billionaire still fresh. "She's not doing good, after Killian. She's still struggling with PTSD. He's hoping to fly her out this week." his eyes flicker to Sam. "I told him about your sessions. He'd like to meet with you, hopes you can help."

"I'll do my best." Sam nods.

"Stark can be a handful." Natasha warns, taking a long drag of whiskey.

"I don't think so, Tasha. Not this time." Steve shakes his head. "If there's one thing I know about Stark, it's that his weakness is Pepper. She's first. He'll put her above everything. He's risked his own life because it meant sparing hers."

"Stark - "

"Not this time, Natasha." he cuts her off, sharply. "I know, he'll play you like a fiddle but you played him, too. He's not playing. She's not doing good." his eyes darken, pupils blown. "He's protecting his girl, Tasha. He wants to see her get better."

"I am simply warning Sam." teeth grit together, like sandpaper on glass. "And, I didn't play him."

Steve laughs dryly, matching her glare with an icy one of his own. "Then, what would you call it, Tasha?"

"My job."

But, that's not good enough.

A _job _shouldn't require the manipulation of a person's emotions, nor should it deem it acceptable to turn their lives into your own personal play-thing. Nothing about that was okay with Steve. That's not to say he was Mister Perfect. He wasn't - he's had his fair share of moments when his job called for some pretty dishonorable things, but somehow, Natasha seems different. This is what she is trained to do. This is what Russia primed her for, what they made her be, but on the flip side of that sympathy coin, there's the whole free will thing. She doesn't _have _to do it, but she does it, anyway and he can't make himself like the deception involved.

"You have a choice, _Natalia._"

"And, you have no idea. _Steven._" because he doesn't. Bless his patriotic heart, but Steve just doesn't know what it was like to be in Red Room. He doesn't know what it's like to be conditioned to be a certain thing when you wish desperately to be another. "I was trained, conditioned to be one thing, when I wanted to be something else. You don't know what that's like."

"I don't? No, Natalia. You don't." Steve is not naturally a hot-tempered person, choosing to keep his cool and release his frustration on something that wasn't made for breathing oxygen like a punching bag, but this conversation is riling him up. "I do know. Captain America was not always a hero. He was a sell-out. Used for monetary gain, and I did it because someone told me to do it. It was the right thing to do, they told me." he softens considerably. "And, when someone tells you to do something because it's the right thing to do, you do it. But, when it's over, was it really the right thing to do, or were you just following orders and being a good soldier?"

"Steve."

"Fury is not your brain, Natasha. You can do your own thinking." he's softer now, and the way she's looking at him - God, now he just wants to fold her away from every bad thing that could happen. She's exposed and vulnerable, scars ripped open by his words, by his harsh reminder that she should think for herself. "Your missions should be your choice, not his. He can't tell you how to think, or how to feel. He can only show you your options. The choice is up to you."

Choice.

Huh.

She doesn't remember the last time she actually had one. While her personal life is nothing SHIELD is interested in, her professional life, the one she leads as a trained killer is something so far beyond her control, she didn't really know if she worked for SHIELD or a power higher than them. The board of trustees would never disclose that information and she knows for a fact, Fury would kill her before handing over information as sensitive as that.

"Steve's right." Sam speaks for the first time in a while. "You shouldn't let Fury think for you. None of us should. He's ambiguous. Just because something looks like the right thing to do on paper, or it sounds good coming from someone else's mouth doesn't mean it is right. Take it or leave it, Nat, that's up to you but living life on the line. It'll ruin you."

"You got experience?"

"Most of the people in my support group. They lived life on that line and it destroyed them." he's not trying to side with either one of them, really, even though he agrees more with Steve - he's always hated that morally ambiguous line you had to walk in the military and the line he's watched Natasha balance on, even when something pulled her one way or the other. "You can't sway left or right. You have to pick a side, Natasha, and you have to stay on that side of the line because there's always going to be somebody trying to erase that line and your balancing act is going to end."

"Sam." Steve's voice is hoarse, tired, but there's a warning in it; they mean well, but they're hurting her, and if anybody can see that, it's him. "That's enough."

"I'm off, anyway." Sam smiles at them both. "Night."

"Night, Sam."

"Night."

Sam disappears into Steve's guest room, leaving Steve and Natasha in awkward silence. The whiskey bottle is almost empty and Steve's beer is quickly following suit. He drains to last of it, and stands up to stretch. "Tasha?" before he realizes she's even had a chance to stand up, she's standing in front of him. "What's up?"

"I'm tired of this, Steve." she mumbles quietly.

"Tired of what?" Steve's eyebrows furrow together in confusion.

"Of following orders, of being a good little spy."

"So, don't."

"It's not that simple." Natasha sighs wearily. "Fury expects me to follow orders."

"Fury is Fury. You are Natasha. You are not the same person." Steve reminds her gently. "But, Tasha, what's this really about? This isn't about some mission. Fury's not handing out missions, right now. He isn't even State-side. What order did he give that you don't want to follow?"

"He told me not to compromise you."

"How the hell are you going to compromise me, Natasha?" he does have to wonder if Fury and Coulson took him for a fool who didn't know how to make his own choices in life.

"Like this."

She's all soft lips and sharp teeth nipping at the tender flesh of his cupid's bow and his mouth opens in invitation, one she is all to happy to accept. He backs her up, pushing her up against the wall, hands groping whatever part of her he can reach. And, he understands, now. She's dark and dangerous and not at all the kind of person he would have chosen to be with; Peggy Carter had always seemed a little more his type but now, having gone through what he had with Bucky, and having her there, it's changed him. She is his type, now. She's the kind of person he needs in his life, the kind who isn't afraid to show him the darker parts of humanity that he's been blind too, that he's denied for so long.

And, it takes a brave person to defy direct orders, especially from Nick Fury.

Oh, that wouldn't be a problem, anymore.


End file.
